Coin Toss

by:Virginia Allen Finnegan fished through the coins in his pocket to find the largest one, a shiny red quarter with the year 1996 stamped on it. He grasped it out to the man before him. “Heads, I murder you,” he started his deal. “Tails, I give you the gamble to flee before I kill you.” The man quivered. “You know, it doesn’t have to be this way.” “Be quiet!” Finnegan swung the butt of the gun against the man’s right temple, knocking him out. He set the gun on the table behind him and returned his attention to the coin. He tossed it midair and let it fall back to the floor. He bent down to get a closer look at George Washington’s profile staring back up back at him. Finnegan grinned, satisfied. He handpicked the gun again and held it to the man’s head, his finger resting on the trigger, ready to release. “It’s all over,” he said bluntly. “Don’t prepare for that.” The voice belonged to a female who was lying in a grave because of the man in the seat. Finnegan turned, taking in the sight of her, dressed in white with her dark curls spilling onto her shoulders. She wore a smile he hadn’t seen in eons. “How is it that you are here?” he said, letting the pistol fall to his side. She advanced toward him, light on her feet as a ghost. “I needed to stop you from making a horrendous mistake.” She positioned her hand on the side of his face. Her touch was tender as rose petals just like he remembered. “He acquired you far away from me,” he defended himself. “He warrants this.” “Not at all,” she darted her words. “You do not get to choose this.” “Why on earth?” he said, heaving his body away from her. “Why shouldn’t I murder him?” “For the reason of he can improve upon himself.” Finnegan’s hands trembled. “I refuse. He’s never completed anything to better himself. How can you defend him like that?” She glanced at the man and beamed adoringly. “Beneath all that dimness, I can see what he’s able to do” Finnegan raised the gun and pressed it to the man’s forehead. “Was it after or before all he did to you? He has a cold heart.” She put her hand on the gun and pressed it toward the ground, away from the man Finnegan was aiming to kill. “I couldn’t see earlier.” A puckered brow captured her face. “I do wish he’d shown me.” Her voice was tinted with remorse. “So that’s it then? I’m expected to let him get away with what he did?” “Trust me, Finnegan. Not a second, or breath goes by when he doesn’t wish he could stop what had happened.” “But he is the reason for it!” Tears began to pool in clouds in Finnegan’s eyes. “You were so desperate. And… he caused you to be that way.” “And he’ll spend the rest of his reckless life trying to take it back.” “He won’t be able to take it back!” He elevated his instrument again and placed it into the man’s mouth. “He swarmed you to suicide. I just can’t let him get away with that. Think of my conscience.” The woman beckoned him, gazing at his eyes. “He remains to be your father, and there’s still good in him.” Finnegan couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. “But what if I don’t ever see it?” Finnegan closed his eyes to squeeze out the tears as he let the gun fall to the ground. When he opened his eyes again, the female who was before him was gone. “Ma?” he said dejectedly, knowing that he wouldn’t receive an answer. The man moaned in front of him. “I’m sorry, my boy. I wish I could bring her back to life.” His own father was sobbing. Finnegan watched as his father’s body quaked with deep sobs from within, evidence of a brokenness Finnegan had never seen in him before. “Take the situation and do it already,” his father regretfully expressed. “I have earned it.” Finnegan noticed the coin on the floor and picked it up. He put it back in his pants pocket. “You have earned it,” he whispered. “But mother would want you to become a better man…a much better man.” He sauntered to the back of the chair and undid his father’s holding rope knots. “She also would want the very same for me.”